


Who Needs Speed Dating

by LadyDrace



Series: Junk Ficlets from Tumblr [34]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Banter, First Meetings, Fluff, Hospitals, Humor, M/M, Minor Injuries, Sassy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 22:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2286129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anon prompted Sabriel 15, <strike>pairing of your choosing 31</strike>, pretty please? For the 50 AUs meme.</p><p>(#15 is Meeting in the E.R.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Needs Speed Dating

“Wow, what happened to you? Growth hormone overdose?”

The goddamn snickering does nothing to help Sam’s headache or his embarrassment about his long legs dangling off the end of the gurney as he’s wheeled into the emergency room. He rolls his head to the side with a grimace at the throbbing in his temple, and then almost laughs too. Because the guy asking is not doing a great job of filling his own hospital bed.

“I’d be angry, but instead I think I’ll just do you a solid and tell you to quit whatever it is that’s stunting  _your_ growth,” Sam says with a snort and then grimaces again. His head is seriously killing him.

The shortstop in the next bed laughs so hard he almost falls off the bed. “Oh, shit,  _ow_ ,” he whines when he finally hiccups to a halt, and cradles the side of his chest. “Ow, okay, laughing not good.” He turns to Sam with a good-natured smile, though, so he can’t be in too much pain. “So. What are you here for? The good drugs or the hot nurses? If it’s the latter I hate to tell you this, man, but you’re in the wrong place.” He gestures at a nurse nearby who looks like she’s been on shift for three days straight and is one hundred percent done with everything and everyone. “I think they’re all past their expiration dates,” he stage-whispers, and Sam snorts again, which makes his head throb even more.

But he gets a whole new appreciation for the nurse when she comes by with drugs, and before long he’s floating happily while someone completely and utterly unimportant stitches up the gash in his head. For some reason he can still see Shortstop in the other bed. He feels like maybe there should be privacy curtains or something, but it’s okay, really. Because the other guy is cute. And, okay, he looks like he’s broken a few ribs, but he also looks like he could be limber. Like doing the split kinda limber. Or auto-fellatio kinda limber. Though probably not, because he chokes on air, suddenly. Not very promising.

“You do know you’re saying all this out loud, right?” Shortstop says, grinning from ear to ear.

“I am?” Sam says slowly, grinning back.

The person doing the stitching gives Shortstop a stern look. “He’s drugged to the gills, so don’t you go and give him shit for this later.”

“Hey, lady, I don’t even know the guy!”

“Doesn’t matter. You look like the type.”

“What type is that?!”

 _My type_ , Sam thinks, and this time both Shortstop and stitchy-person choke a little bit.

“I said that out loud too, didn’t I?”

Stitchy-person finishes up with Sam’s head and goes to Shortstop’s bed. “You’re going for x-rays,  _mister_ ,” she says, and Shortstop flails and grimaces.

“No, wait! You can’t take me away now! Doped up hottie hasn’t given me his number yet!”

“This is a hospital, sir, not speed-dating.”

“Please, I’m begging you, for the sake of my Sahara sized dry spell, lemme stay until we can hook up!”

Sam frowns, because he doesn’t want Shortstop to go either. Sam wants him to stay so he can ask about the auto-fellatio thing. And maybe kiss him. He’s got really nice-looking lips. And apparently Sam is still talking out loud, because Shortstop looks pained.

“Lemme leave him a note, at least! Have a heart, lady!”

Stitchy-person sighs, world-weary, but does somehow find a post-it pad and a pen for Shortstop. By the time Sam comes out of his fog, mortified but clearheaded, he reads the note and laughs. There’s a phone number, and underneath it says:

_For a good time, call me. And yes, I can totally do the split. And that other thing too. Xoxo Gabriel._

Sam calls before he’s even discharged.

End.


End file.
